Edward went with the shift in subject without further thought to Maxton and Christopher’s contentious relationship. “Ah,” he said. “It is true. You know that they call this area the Black Country because of the coal. There are veins of it running close to the surface of the earth and I have legions of men who mine it, and more legions who sell it all over England. It has made my family very wealthy. As I mentioned to you when you arrived at Warstone, about three years ago, two big diamonds were found on Hawkstone property in part of the River Roden that runs through their lands. It was all anyone could speak of for quite some time in these parts.”
Both Maxton and Caius were listening with interest, but it was Caius who spoke. “They call them The Roden Twins because they found them in the River Roden?”
“Exactly,” Edward said. “But what I did not tell you was that the discovery created a run on the Hawkstone properties. Villagers from all over were overrunning Hawkstone’s lands in the search for more diamonds, or so I had heard. I also heard that there had been an offer from Covington de Wrenville around the same time for a marriage between his son and Emelisse de Thorington, Rupert’s daughter.”
The light of realization flickered in Caius’ eyes. “Christ,” he hissed. “You did not mention that the night we arrived at all. De Wrenville wanted in on the diamond rush.”
Edward nodded. “That is what I thought at the time,” he said. “The marriage offer was refused and there has been trouble between them ever since. I have told Covington to cease his hostilities with Hawkstone, but he has not listened. I have had to tell him more than once.”
On the other side of Edward, Maxton muttered aloud. “Because de Wrenville wanted Hawkstone’s riches,” he said, watching Edward and Caius look over at him. “The Marshal told us that de Wrenville is accusing de Thorington of being disloyal to the Crown. Marius de Wrenville is now a favorite of John’s, so you can imagine what he has been telling the king.”
Edward shook his head. “It is a lie,” he said flatly. “Rupert de Thorington has always been loyal to the Crown. It is simply that Covey de Wrenville wants control of Hawkstone and her diamonds. At least, it’s my belief, and also the belief of a few other nobles around here, that Covey simply wants all of Hawkstone. It is a valuable property.”
“Were any more diamonds found?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
“Where are The Roden Twins?”
“Still at Hawkstone, as far as I know.”
So much of the situation was now ringing out as clear as a bell to both Caius and Maxton, a disgusting circumstance that was nothing more than greed from what they could see. Suddenly, Covington de Wrenville’s complaint about a neighbor was beginning to reveal some unsavory things about Covington himself.
“Christ,” Caius piped up. “William was very clear on how I was to handle this because he fears greatly for his niece. She is married to Covington de Wrenville now and The Marshal fears for her safety if the situation goes against de Wrenville.”
Edward snorted. “Why do you think I am coming with you?” he said. “It is not because I adore battle and conflict. It is because this entire situation smacks of Covey de Wrenville’s greed. He was always a troublemaker, but never more so than now. And I agree with The Marshal. The marriage itself was arranged so Covey could use William’s army to subdue Hawkstone once and for all.”
Caius didn’t like the sound of that. “If that is true, then therein lies the problem. I was told I could not use the army against de Wrenville.”
Edward glanced back at the three thousand men they had following them. Thousands of men, twelve provisions wagons, and six more wagons carrying tents and other items for a massive warrior encampment meant that there was going to be an entire army camped out at Winterhold Castle.
“You have a thousand Marshal men and a thousand de Lohr men,” he said quietly, returning his attention to Caius. “The rest are mine. I can send for more. If I choose to defend Rupert de Thorington, then I shall.”
Caius eyed him. “Against William Marshal’s army?”
“I will not let Covey de Wrenville use them.”
It was a tricky, nasty situation and Caius didn’t say anything more, but he and Maxton passed concerned glances. If this got out of hand, they could very well find themselves facing off against the de Wolfe army. Caius made the decision at that moment that if it came to that, he would stand down. He would not fight against the mighty Earl of Wolverhampton and he knew that The Marshal would back that decision.
At least, he hoped so.
With trepidation in his breast, Caius turned his head to see The Marshal knights behind him – Peter, Kevin, Gareth, and Morgan still riding with young William. He could hardly wait to tell them what Edward had elaborated on. They’d been part of the initial conversations with the earl when they’d first arrived to Warstone, but the discussions had been more about The Marshal and the situation with his niece rather than the speculation behind Covington’s aggression against Hawkstone.
Now, everything was out in the open.
Perhaps the stakes were higher than any of them could imagine.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was cold.
Beyond cold, in truth. The stone walls of Winterhold’s vault were moist and covered with moss, and the air itself was full of rot. To reach this hellish hole, and it was dug deep under the largest tower next to the keep, one had to traverse a ridiculously steep and treacherous staircase that had a rope banister so those traveling up and down, namely knights or guards, wouldn’t kill themselves. It was more like a slippery ladder than a staircase, leading down into a bottomless pit.
In fact, Emelisse was one of those who nearly ended her life ingloriously at the bottom of the staircase because she had been fighting Covington’s knight so much that she ended up falling onto her bum, sliding at least four or five stairs before he managed to grab her by the hair to stop her from plunging to the bottom. It had been a terrifying and painful dose of reality.
After that, she didn’t fight so much.
With a heavily bruised bum and right thigh, Emelisse permitted the knight to take her to the bottom of the steps without incident, where a heavy iron grate was built into the walls of the stairwell. There was a guard there, in the confined space, who unlocked the massive iron lock by the light of a smoking torch. Shoving the door open, the vault beyond was revealed.
Emelisse could barely see before her because it was so dark, but she could see enough to make out a single, circular room, lined with stone. It was literally one big chamber and there were already two prisoners in there, huddle over to one side of it. There weren’t individual cells, meaning Emelisse would go into the same holding cell as the rest of Winterhold’s prisoners.
And past prisoners.
There were at least two or three bodies in various states of decomposition that she could see, crammed over into a pile near the cell door. She could see bones and rotting flesh in the darkness, and she could certainly smell the death.
Shocked at the sight, she resisted somewhat when de Wrenville’s knight pulled her into the chamber. He finally yanked and she came through, darting away from the rotting bodies and the two prisoners huddled on the other side of the chamber. She looked to de Wrenville’s knight, all of the fight and anger drained from her face as the horror of the situation became apparent.
“I am to stay here?” she gasped. “Have you no mercy, my lord? Why would you put me here?”
The knight met her gaze and Emelisse couldn’t tell if there was pity there. She didn’t sense complete hatred from him, and perhaps there was even some humanity in his expression, but it was impossible to tell in the darkness. All she could really see were his eyes glittering in the weak light.
“You are a prisoner, Lady Emelisse,” he said. “For now, I have nowhere else to put you, so you must stay here.”
Emelisse’s gaze traveled to the two live prisoners across the cell. She could only really see their outlines in the darkness
and the fear within her heart began to transform into disgust and frustration.
“I do not know why I should think you would treat me with dignity,” she said, yanking her arm from his grip and moving to the cell wall. “You and your liege have been barbaric and immoral from the start, so this is not a surprising action. Thank you for your time, my lord. You may leave me here to rot just as you have the others.”
With that, she plopped down onto the cold, moldering ground, huddling her knees up against the icy temperatures. Leaning against the wall, she turned her face away from the knight, effectively cutting off the conversation. But she realized as she sat there that tears were very close to the surface.
Tears of what had been lost on this day, tears for her poor father. Thoughts of Rupert de Thorington were heavy on her mind, but she wasn’t going to beg a de Wrenville knight to be kind with her father’s body and give it over to the priests of the nearby parish. He would probably spit on her if she asked, so she didn’t. But the thought of her father’s body ending up in Winterhold’s massive moat made her physically ill.
Bile rose in her throat.
As Emelisse closed her eyes to ward off the horror her life had become, the knight was still standing a few feet away. He hadn’t left her. She could hear his joints pop as he moved in her direction.
“Lady Emelisse,” he said quietly. “I am going to offer you some advice. Whether or not you take it is your choice, but I would suggest you consider it. You are now Baron Darliston’s prisoner and he can do with you as he wishes. A cooperative prisoner will be treated much better than a combative one. De Wrenville has not touched you, but he can. If you push him with your resistance and bad behavior, he very well might. Though you do not belong in the vault, it can become your permanent home if you do not start showing a willingness to be obliging. Am I making myself clear?”
Emelisse didn’t answer him. She had nothing to say. She turned her face to the wall and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, letting the tears come. It had been a day of days and physically, mentally, she had been cracked.
Cracked, but not broken.
She had earned the right to spill a few tears.
The knight watched her lowered head in the darkness, waiting for an answer. When he realized she wasn’t going to reply, he turned to the two threadbare, filthy prisoners on the other side of the cell.
They were two men, two brothers who had cheated Marius de Wrenville of a fine horse. They’d promised him one and when it was delivered, it was far below standard. Rightfully, they had been imprisoned and here was where they would die. Soon, by the pitiful looks of them. But that didn’t stop the knight from standing over the pair, menacingly.
“Harass the lady and my justice shall be swift,” he said. “You will not go anywhere near her. Do you understand me?”
The pair, weak and frail, cowered from him until one of them nodded his head. That was enough for the knight, who headed out of the chamber, slamming the cell door with a resounding clang that echoed against the stone walls.
There was something final about that sound.
Something desolate.
But the knight wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about the lady trapped down there. She was correct; she shouldn’t be down there and they both knew it, but the knight didn’t have the authority to move her.
But he knew someone who might.
He went on the hunt.
“My lady,” a servant whispered. “Sir Hallam is here.”
Alice, Lady de Wrenville, looked up from the sewing loom. She was working on a scene with birds and clouds and cherubs, and she was quite talented. Though her heart had jumped at the sound of Hallam’s name, her hands were steady as she resumed her sewing.
“Show him in, Matilde.”
The well-dressed maid did. She opened up the chamber door, one of two great doors that guarded the entrance to Lady de Wrenville’s private solar. It was a solar she’d been unable to touch in any way because it had belonged to Covington’s first wife, Egraine, dead for ten years, and he kept it as shrine of sorts to the woman. Everything was as she had left it. He’d made it clear that Alice was just a visitor in it, and that’s exactly what she felt like – a visitor to a home she was supposed to be in charge of.
This had never been her home and never would.
As the maid opened up the door, Alice glanced up as a figure in mail entered the chamber.
“That will be all, Matilde,” Alice said calmly. “You may wait outside.”
The maid slipped out, shutting the door behind her as Sir Hallam Chadlington, commander of Winterhold’s army, approached the well-dressed woman at the sewing loom.
“My lady,” he greeted politely. “I hope you have had a pleasant day.”
Alice paused in her sewing, smiling timidly at him. “I have,” she said. “But from the looks of you, I would hazard to say that your day has been quite busy.”
Hallam nodded, a weary smile on his lips. “Another day at Hawkstone,” he said. “We finally managed to breach the gatehouse, but I lost several men doing it.”
Alice’s smile faded. “Then Hawkstone has surrendered?”
Hallam shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Caspian de Thorington is still in the keep, so we do not have control of that yet, but the rest of the castle is ours. That is why I have come, my lady. We have a bit of a… situation. I require your counsel and your assistance.”
Alice looked at him, studying him as she had studied him since nearly the moment they had met. It had been Hallam who had come with the marriage offer from his liege and Hallam who had escorted her from her home at Dudley Castle to Winterhold. He wasn’t a big knight as far as knights went, but he was strong and true and honorable. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, but there was something about him that was attractive and sensual.
At least, Alice thought so.
She hadn’t been able to take her eyes from him since the day they’d met.
“You shall have it,” she said softly. “I was hoping that mayhap you’d come simply to see me.”
Hallam looked at her, an expression in his eyes that was full of restraint and longing. His gaze lingered on her for a moment as if he wanted to say something, but he ended up averting his gaze.
“Unfortunately, I have said everything that I can say, Alice,” he said quietly. “We both know it is futile to speak of… well, futile to discuss things that can never be. It is not good for either of us.”
Alice knew that, but the truth was that she’d never loved a man in her entire life until she met the sweet and noble Hallam Chadlington, a seasoned knight who served a monster.
Her husband.
She blinked away the tears that threatened and looked back to her loom, steeling herself against her emotions. “You said you have come to seek my counsel,” she said, resuming her sewing with quivering hands. “How may I be of assistance?”
Hallam watched her, his expression rippling with sorrow. Alice wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the world, but she was clever and kind and generous, and of great character. There was something about her that was warm and comforting, something more valuable than conventional beauty to him. Covington de Wrenville didn’t deserve her; not even in the slightest.
Hallam cleared his throat softly.
“When we took the great hall of Hawkstone, Rupert de Thorington’s daughter was there, tending their wounded,” he said. “She was brought back to Winterhold as a prisoner.”
Alice’s head shot up. “Oh?” she said. “Where is she?”
“In the vault.”
Alice’s eyes widened. “In that terrible place?” she gasped. “Hallam, that is no place for her. Why on earth is she there?”
“Because your husband ordered it.”
Alice dropped her sewing altogether. Stabbing the needle back into the fabric so it wouldn’t fall to the floor, she stood up and faced him.
“She cannot remain there,” she said. “It is inhumane to put a woman there. I do no
t care if my husband ordered it.”
Hallam smiled faintly. This was exactly why he’d come to her. “I was hoping you would say so,” he said quietly. “I can make sure the guard in the vault is missing from his post if you remove the lady and take her with you. Take her anywhere; I do not care where and I do not want to know. Just take her away and hide her from your husband because he intends to use her for his own questionable purposes. This entire pursuit of Hawkstone is already unconscionable and…”
He suddenly stopped, looking at Alice with an expression that suggested he’d already said too much. But Alice gazed back at him steadily, with understanding.
“I know,” she murmured. “You are a fine, noble knight forced to do the bidding of a greedy and immoral man.”
He held up a hand, quickly, to silence her. “Not a word,” he begged softly. “I am sworn to de Wrenville. I must carry out his commands without question. It does not matter what I think or what you think.”
Alice shook her head. “It is not simply us,” she said quietly. “I have heard more than one person at Winterhold speak of Covey’s greed when it comes to Hawkstone. He tells people they are loyal to France and that it is his duty to confiscate the castle, but that is not the truth.”
Hallam simply looked at her. “You will not repeat that, to anyone,” he said. “If de Wrenville catches wind that his own wife is speaking against him, it will not go well for you. Please, Alice… do not repeat what you have heard.”
Alice sighed faintly. “I am not sure what more he could do to me that he has not already done,” she said. “I am merely a visitor in my husband’s home while he worships the memory of his dead first wife. I have money, position, and some power, but I had to get into bed with the devil for it. This was not as I had planned, Hallam.”
Hallam snorted ironically. “This is not how any of us planned.”
She could see the sorrow in his expression. Reaching out, she brushed his arm with her warm hand before turning back to her loom and sitting heavily.
The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 121